


Gunpowder and Lead

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, Drama, Explicit Language, F/F, Femslash, Ficlet, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity, The Quidditch Pitch: The Ladies Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-08
Updated: 2008-12-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: After the war, a loveless relationship between Ginny and Draco turns into a  rushed, and violent, marriage. Ginny eventually finds love in an old friend and  realizes she made a mistake. Hermione helps her end the bitter relationship for  good.





	Gunpowder and Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for [](http://shadowclub.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shadowclub.livejournal.com/)**shadowclub** for the Poetry  & lyric prompt femslash mini-fest!  
> Based on the prompt --  
> I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun  
> Wait by the door and light a cigarette  
> If he wants a fight well now he's got one  
> And he ain't seen me crazy yet  
> He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll  
> Don't that sound like a real man
> 
> \- Gunpowder and Lead Miranda Lambert

“Ignito,” Ginny whispered as she touched the end of her wand to the end of a fresh cigarette. She watched the feeble orange flame fight desperately to catch on the pure, white paper, then die out. The red glow of the burning cigarette lent some warmth to the barren, ashy horizon, the time right before sunrise. Ginny stretched herself out on her favorite rocking chair and listened to its familiar creaking as she rocked back and forth gently. She raised the cigarette to her lips, still covered in the remains of red lipstick, and took a slow, grateful drag on it. She felt the smoke fill her lungs, warming her against the bitter air for a moment, closed her eyes as she held onto the sensation, and then let the smoke out slowly, watching it curl up toward the uncaring sky. 

 

A deep chill suddenly went through her when the intangible smoke vanished somewhere above her head and she clutched her threadbare houserobe tighter around her neck. She leaned back in her seat and exhaled another puff of smoke, her eyes focused on the cold, slightly foggy western horizon, where the dirt road faded and disappeared against the endless dried-out, yellow grass. They lived in a desolate area; nobody lived within a fifty mile radius of their peeling, aging little house, but there was some strategy to the location. After all, when a Weasley marries a Malfoy they better pray that they can get far enough away to never see another witch or wizard again. 

 

Ginny ran a hand through her tangled, ruffled hair, unbrushed since the morning before. She was surprisingly calm; the still, chilly air, the familiar creaking of the old screen door as it was shaken by the gentle morning breeze, and the comfort of a glowing cigarette soothed her nerves. Her eyes narrowed slightly, trying to get a clearer view of the road, making sure there was still no sign of her husband. 

 

_Back, forth, back, forth._ It was nice to know that no matter what would happen after that morning, the rocking chair would never stop its comforting motion, and no matter which way it swung in would always return. Ginny lifted the cigarette to her lips again and inhaled slowly, holding it elegantly between two red nails. He had been romantic at first. She liked escaping with him and laughing forbidden nights away. He never promised her anything permanent, but after the war he married her to prove his tolerance of blood-traitors. Ginny thought it was awfully romantic until they started sinking financially. The Malfoy fortune lost its resilience and sunk like a corpse in the water. They were hated by purebloods and mudbloods alike and hailed as traitors, so they ran to a ramshackle little house in the middle of nowhere. Meanwhile, the man had changed. He realized what a mistake had been made in keeping Ginny, and he began to get aggressive. Well, not anymore. 

 

Ginny held her jaw with her free hand and shifted it around, testing to see if it still clicked from that time he slammed her against the well. She was so through with him. Her jaw would heal, eventually, but she wanted to ensure he never would. 

 

The screen door screeched loudly behind her and she turned to see Hermione in the doorway wearing an old white tank top and white panties. Her dark nipples were clearly visible through the thin, wearing fabric. She looked incredible – her makeup was slightly smudged around the eyes and her hair was manically wild. She clutched a mug of coffee with both hands and she leaned against the doorpost as she took a sip, looking off to the east in search of the first signs of sunlight. 

 

“Good morning,” she croaked.

 

Ginny smiled. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

 

Hermione frowned. “You’re smoking again?”

 

Ginny looked down at the cigarette. She had forgotten how Hermione hated the smell of cigarettes. Under normal circumstances, she would have put it out, but that morning she needed its warmth. “Just sometimes.”

 

Hermione clicked her tongue. “It’s freezing out here,” she said as she gripped the coffee mug tighter and crossed her legs. “What are you doing up?”

 

Ginny frowned, her eyes focused back on the western end of the road. She shrugged. “Just waiting to talk to Malfoy.”

 

“He’s coming back?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide. 

 

Ginny nodded slowly. 

 

“Ginny, please, tell me you’re not going to try to talk to him. You’ll get hurt—”

 

“I won’t,” Ginny replied firmly. She took a long drag on the cigarette and flicked the ashes away onto a nearby tray. Hermione noticed the tone in Ginny’s voice and knew she was dead serious. She approached Ginny slowly and took her free hand in hers. 

 

Hermione kneeled down near Ginny so their faces were level. “What are you going to do to him?” she asked softly, looking straight into Ginny’s eyes. 

 

Ginny turned to look right into Hermione’s eyes. “I’m just going to talk to him,” she said sternly.

 

“And if he won’t listen? If he tries to…”

 

“I’m not powerless, Hermione,” Ginny said as she picked up her wand and twirled it between her fingers. 

 

“Oh Merlin, Ginny, what’s going to happen here?” Hermione asked as she snuggled into the crook of Ginny’s neck. 

 

“Nothing that Malfoy doesn’t have coming to him.” Ginny lifted Hermione’s chin and kissed her lightly, their tongues dancing like butterflies. 

 

“Don’t forget, you’re still a Malfoy, too,” Hermione whispered against Ginny’s mouth. “I know he deserves it, but maybe we can just run away, leave Britain—”

 

“No,” Ginny interrupted, breaking away from Hermione. “I have to do this. I can’t run.” She looked back to the horizon and saw the tiny dust cloud forming at the point where the road disappeared. Draco was coming. 

 

“Hermione, you have to go inside. Hide, or Apparate. I’ll see you later.” Ginny put a hand on Hermione’s cheek and kissed her. 

 

Hermione nodded slowly. She understood what Ginny was saying, though she was also desperately hoping nobody would get hurt, especially Ginny, since Hermione had seen Ginny’s vulnerable side and now couldn’t help but fear for her lover. She stood up slowly when she noticed something black and metal sticking out from between the folds of a spare blanket. 

 

“Ginny,” she started, her eyes wide, “what is this?” She tried to grab for the object but Ginny slammed a hand down onto it and wouldn’t let it budge. 

 

“A stupid Muggle contraption,” she said softly. “You have to get inside. I have to do this alone.”

 

“Ginny, is that a, a gun?” Hermione squeaked. “Where did you get that?” She looked at Ginny with a horrified expression on her face. 

 

“It’s just in case. Now please, get in the fucking house,” she growled, then turned to Hermione and saw the scared expression in her eyes. “I love you, but you have to go. I have to know that _I_ ended it. We aren’t on the Floo network and we’re too far away to Apparate anywhere. There’s a ladder and a trapdoor in my bedroom closet – it leads to a little attic. Just wait there for me.” Ginny glanced at the horizon and saw the dust cloud building. Already there was a hint of the car’s black paint. Her stomach started to cramp up from stress. She needed Hermione to get out of there; she couldn’t handle knowing that she died because of her. 

 

“I can’t leave you…” Hermione said as a tear rolled over her cheek. She looked wildly from the place where Draco’s car approached to Ginny’s eyes. 

 

“He can’t do killing charms, Hermione. He told me that. Here, take this and hide, and we’ll get rid of it later,” Ginny said as she pushed her wedding ring into Hermione’s hand. They kissed quickly, knowing it could be the last time. Another tear made its way down Hermione’s face. “He’ll see you. Go, go.” Ginny nudged Hermione forward and the girl went grudgingly into the house. 

 

Ginny listened carefully as her closet door opened and the ladder was pulled into position. She heard the trapdoor open and the low thudding of Hermione’s footsteps as she made her way into the attic. All the while, Ginny watched Draco’s car come into focus. She still had a few moments before his arrival and used them to get back into her rocking chair and try to look as natural as possible. She looked down at the packet of cigarettes but couldn’t bring herself to light another. 

 

She heard the familiar popping sound as gravel flew off the car’s tires and the high pitched screech as the aging breaks scrambled to stop the rusting vehicle. The door opened slowly and out came Draco, dressed in a white t-shirt and Muggle jeans because they were best for manual labor. He looked dusty and unshowered, as always. 

 

Draco squinted at Ginny slowly through the dust the car had raised. “What the hell are you doing up?” he asked as he slammed the door and started toward the front steps. 

 

“Just waiting for you,” Ginny started darkly. 

 

“Do you have any fucking food here or did I just bust my ass for nothing?” 

 

“No food. Not now.” Ginny got out of her seat slowly and leaned against the railing of the front porch. 

 

Draco sneered at her took a few steps toward his bride. “What the fuck do you mean there’s no food? You no good bitch, I—” He was cut off by Ginny’s wand, which was suddenly pointed squarely at him. A slow, dangerous smile pooled around his eyes and mouth. “What are you doing, Ginny? Are you going to ‘Bat-Bogey Hex’ me?” he mocked her. 

 

“No,” Ginny said through gritted teeth. She clenched the wand tightly in her hand, trying to control the poisonous fury pounding though her. 

 

“Put the wand down,” Draco said warningly, “and I’ll forget this happened.”

 

“No.” Ginny stood silent a moment, gathering her courage, before addressing him again. “How could you do this to me? How could you lay a hand on me, you bastard?” She was suddenly overcome with the instinct to cry, but didn’t give in to it. Ginny could finally feel weeks of abuse pouring out through her words and the effect was overwhelming. 

 

To her surprise, Draco laughed coldly. “You’re mine now. I have the right to do with you as I please. Come on, Ginny, we both know you can’t cast an Unforgivable Curse. Come on, you’re still my angel,” He took a step toward her, ignoring the weapon pointed at him. 

 

“Stop,” Ginny whispered fiercely. 

 

“My everything,” Draco continued. 

 

A single tear escaped Ginny’s eyes and she let it run down unchecked. 

 

“Stop this nonsense.” He smiled icily. “I love you.”

 

With those words something snapped in Ginny. She was flooded with a dreadfully cold, rigid hatred, and she suddenly couldn’t stop herself from grabbing the shotgun from its hiding place and aiming it straight at Draco’s head. 

 

“What the fuck is—”

 

The world was suddenly filled by that one shot, the horribly loud crack followed by at least a dozen reverberations. Ginny heard a horrified scream somewhere above her head. She watched as Draco’s eyes widened and a tiny sound escaped his mouth before he collapsed in the dirt. She watched as his blood pooled around his head slowly and numbed shock filled her little body. The gun fell to the floor and Ginny looked around wildly, as though all the world could have changed in those few seconds. Tears streamed down her face and she felt relief battle panic in her heart. The hand that held the gun felt numb from the force of the shot and Ginny felt a little sick. Unable to remain standing, she collapsed onto her knees and remained there, sobbing, watching the blood poison the hard, cold morning earth. 

 

Ginny remained that way until she felt Hermione’s warm but strong hands rest on her shoulders. Hermione kneeled behind Ginny and hugged her around the waist, holding her tightly as Ginny cried.

 

“We need to bury him,” Hermione said softly and sternly when Ginny started to calm down. 

 

Ginny nodded slowly. She stood up, shaking as though frozen. She looked at Hermione, whose eyes were swollen and red but her face was calm. Hermione levitated the corpse and managed to Apparate the three of them to a random spot a few miles away. The two of them summoned shovels and started clawing at the numb earth, tearing the dirt and yellow grass away to form a crooked, shallow grave. 

 

The sun started to rise in a furious blaze of red, like a gunshot wound in the sky, as Ginny and Hermione struggled to pick up Draco’s body and throw it into the makeshift grave. 

 

“Wait, wait,” Ginny said before Hermione threw the first clod of dirt on the somewhat mangled body. “Where is my wedding ring?”

 

“Here.” Hermione handed her the small, gleaming band. 

 

Ginny took the ring and placed it gently on Draco’s chest and they buried him quickly. 

 

The two stood side by side, covered in dirt and foreign blood, looking off to the sunrise. They didn’t know what to do; it felt wrong to leave him there, with no grave and no words of departure, but neither wanted to say anything on his behalf.

 

Finally, Hermione spoke first. “In two hours, we report a missing person to the Ministry.”

 

Ginny nodded and smiled darkly. “Ministry won’t bother looking for a Malfoy.”

 

“That’s the idea.”


End file.
